


Keeps On Giving

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Dick’s never forgotten to get Bruce a gift, until this year. Good thing he’s so great at adapting on the fly - and has a hoard of younger siblings to annoy whenever he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s some holiday garbage for you fine folk. Damian gets Dick back by ignoring Dick the rest of the night in favor of his dad, and then demanding to sleep in Dick’s room with him and all of his pets. Dick didn’t know cats snored so loud. Bruce had just gotten home from his own patrol. Like he’d take a night off ever, psh.

“…Oh no.”

Damian blinked and looked at his brother. Scrunched his face in confusion at the panic and surprise on Nightwing’s features. “What?”

“…It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah.” Damian hummed. “And you’re…just realizing that now?” Damian glanced at the large clock tower nearby. “…Two hours into the holiday?”

“…I didn’t get your dad anything.” Dick looked at him with wide eyes. “I _always_ get your dad _something_.”

“So? I didn’t get my father anything either.” Damian shrugged, looking back down at his binoculars and resuming his attempt to fix them. “I didn’t get _anyone anything_ , in fact.”

“You’re ten and individually poor, no one expects you to.” Dick waved off. “I have always gotten your dad something. Ever since I was _eight_. I have my _streak_ to protect.”

Damian blinked again, slower this time. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Dick frowned. “Am not.”

“Are too, and don’t start this again. It’s a childish tactic that I beat you at last time, and I’ll beat you at again.” Damian snapped back with an upwards glance. “Besides, arguing with me _clearly_ isn’t going to _fix_ this perceived problem of yours.”

“True.” Dick sighed dramatically. “So. Any suggestions?”

“On what to get my father for Christmas at two in the morning on the day of?” Damian drawled in a grunt as he twisted something within his equipment. “Sorry Grayson, but it appears I’m fresh out.”

Dick kept his frown, even as he pushed playfully at Damian’s shoulder. “Your newfound sense of sarcasm means you’re spending too much time with _Tim_.”

“Well with you always elsewhere and faking your death and whatnot,” Damian shrugged, and Dick knew that was a barb he deserved. “Who else am I to spend my time with?”

“Your dad.” Dick shot back, but then paused. Looked out across the city, then back to his brother. “Actually…when _was_ the last time you were home?”

“I’m home now.” Damian hummed. “Or are you the newest one telling me Gotham isn’t my home?”

“No, I mean the _manor_ , short stack. I know you’re travelling just as much as I am these days, and your trips to Gotham tend to be quick, and don’t always mean a swing by the house.” Dick returned. “When was the last time you were actually _home_ -home?”

Damian pursed his lips, and put all of his focus on his binoculars. “I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Almost a year now? Maybe?”

“Uh-huh.” Dick smirked. “And the last time you saw your dad?”

Damian paused in his fiddling with the binoculars, and his eyes grew distant. “I…don’t actually recall.”

“That long, huh?” Dick’s smirk weakened slightly, turning into a sympathetic grin. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ve all been there once or twice. He’s not like, specifically avoiding _you_ or anything.”

“…Why would that make me _feel_ better?” Damian countered. “But regardless, it doesn’t matter. It’s part of the life, we all knew that when we signed up for it, myself included.”

“Well, sure, but…” Dick trailed off, glancing down at the streets. Watched the streetlamp holiday decorations rock in the wind. The trails of red bows flittering in the wind. Suddenly, something struck him, and he glanced at his brother again. “Wait…”

Damian didn’t respond, went back to fixing his binoculars.

Dick stared at him another minute, then back to the bows on the streetlight wreaths. Then back to his brother, then back again.

Then he grinned.

“I’ve got it.” He decided.

Damian glanced up. “Got what?”

“I’ve,” Dick hummed, suddenly lashing out and lifting Damian – who yelped in surprise – onto his shoulder. “Got it.”

Dick shot off a line, then, jumping and swinging towards the streets. Damian scrambled to hang on, trying to look around to see where they were going. “Got what?!”

“I know,” Damian felt Dick let go of him for a second, heard the brush of branches under Dick’s voice, and suddenly something was being flopped onto his head. “What I’m getting Bruce for Christmas.”

The trails of ribbons instantly flopped across his eyes, whipping at his cheeks. He looked over Dick’s shoulder, at the wreath about to fall off the lamp. It was still rocking from when they’d hit it, and was obviously missing its trim.

Realization dawned on him, as they arched back up towards the clouds.

“Ooooooh _no_.” Damian droned, resuming his struggle in Dick’s arms. But not to hang on this time – to get away. “Grayson, no. Don’t you _dare. Don’t you_ -”

“Ho, ho, ho!” Dick cut off loudly, shooting off another line as he simultaneously tightening his grip on his protégé, cackling louder the more Damian protested. “Merry Christmas!”

The journey to the manor didn’t take more than an hour, and Damian was still demanding to be released when they got to the front doorstep. Bruce could hear him shouting still as he emerged from the cave and into his study.

He frowned as he closed the clock, rushing into the hallway. His mind began to whir of what all might be wrong – Damian might be hurt, sick, emotionally compromised, being held hostage, or a terrible combination of all of those options.

But he slowed as he made it to the foyer, and watched Dick come through the front door, Damian over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Both still in full vigilante uniform.

“…Dick?” Bruce questioned. “What’s…going on?”

Damian began to speak, but Dick smacked his thigh to shush him, and talked in his place.

“Just the holidays.” Dick grinned, peeling his mask off with his free hand. “Ready for your present, B?”

“At…almost three a.m., Dick?” Bruce chuckled, glancing at his watch. “It can’t wait until morning?”

“Technically it _is_ morning, but no it can’t wait.” Dick winked. “Because a little birdie told me he hasn’t been home, or seen his dear old dad, in _quite_ a while.”

Bruce blinked, and smiled, crossing his arms. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. So Santa and I got together for eggnog last week and came up with this great gift.” Dick shifted Damian downwards, cradled him in his arms for a second before placing him gently on the ground in front of him. Bruce snorted, and covered his mouth to hide his laugh at the bow haphazardly smushed against his son’s hair. “May I present to you: Damian Wayne.”

Damian crossed his arms, blushing as he looked away. “Hello, Father.”

“Fifth generation model, knows multiple languages, _loves_ animals. Has gone through a couple Batmen, so is _slightly_ used, but is incredibly, _incredibly_ loved.” Dick leaned down and pressed a kiss against Damian’s cheek. “And I know for a fact, that his first Batman had an ridiculously hard time letting him go.”

Damian pursed his lips. “…Shut up, Grayson.”

“ _Buuuuut_ I promised the guy that his little Damian was going to a _really_ great home, so I got a great bargain.” Dick ruffled Damian’s hair with a laugh, glancing up. “What do you think, Bruce?”

“I think…” Bruce hummed, walking forward. Crouching in front of Damian when he was close enough. Damian still wouldn’t look at him, his finger twitching nervously at his elbow. “…it’s perfect.”

Damian glanced up. “…I didn’t have a say in this, Father. Grayson _ambushed_ me.”

Bruce chuckled, reaching up to push the bow’s ribbon out of Damian’s face and behind his ear. “Best present I’ve ever got.”

Damian’s blush deepened. “Liar.”

Bruce laughed again, pulling Damian into an embrace, rocking him slightly as he kissed his temple. Damian slumped easily against him, and Bruce felt him shyly return the embrace.

“I missed you, Damian. It really has been too long. I’m sorry about that.” He whispered, glancing up at his eldest. “Thanks, Dick.”

“…I’ll get you a real present soon, B.” Dick returned warmly. “This was mostly to annoy Damian.”

“Don’t bother.” Bruce shook his head, shifting his arm downwards to hook under Damian’s knees and lift him. “I meant what I said – you kids home is the best gift I could ever have.”

Dick just grinned, and felt heat rising to his own cheeks, too.

“Now come on,” Bruce hummed, shifting Damian to one arm to wrap the other around Dick’s shoulders. “Jason, Tim and Cassandra are on their way back from patrol now. Cass is dragging the boys here. We can wait for them in the sitting room, by Alfred’s impeccably decorated tree.”

“Oh yeah. All _Cass_ , right?” Dick snorted.

“I… _may_ have put the suggestion out there.” Bruce tentatively admitted. “What? Even I’m not stubborn enough to admit that it’s been a few years since the whole family was together for something _pleasant_.”

Dick smiled, and leaned against Bruce’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Bruce.”

Damian piped up from against his throat, voice already slurred and sleepy. “Merry Christmas, Father.”

Bruce grinned, holding them both closer, glancing out the window at the sight of headlights heading towards the house. “…Merry Christmas, boys.”


End file.
